He Doesn't See Me
by Andrea Weiling
Summary: A secret admirer has been "watching" over Quatre, who can sense this entity, but can't identify it. He has a hunch that it is Trowa, but there is no way to prove it. After a series of meetings and close encounters, Quatre goes to ask the person, but he
1. He Doesn't See Me

He Doesn't See Me  
Originally sung by Sarah Brightman  
  
[When he passes me by, he's a ray of light  
Like the first drop of sun from the sky.]  
  
A blonde headed boy walks down the path, cheerfully greeting all that come near   
enough for him to greet. As a sign of respect to such a man, and to add a playfulness to   
their day, they return the young man's gesture, and watch happily as his blue-green eyes   
twinkle with happiness as they answer his quiet but firm "Hello". After he has left radius   
of earshot, all mothers come out and scold their children, saying that when they grow up,   
they should be just as polite as he.  
  
[And I know he's a king, who deserves a queen.  
But I'm not a queen.]  
  
Another boy lurks in the shadows, hugging them so that no one will see him. He   
watches the blonde boy carefully, closely, but not close enough to be seen. Suddenly the   
blonde boy stops, and starts to turn in the other boy's gaze. The other boy quickly tilts   
his head back, letting his strangely groomed brown hair shine in the sun, so the boy will   
see that it is a person with their back to him. As a sign of politeness, the blonde boy   
never disturbs a person unless they are facing him. The boy with the light brown hair waits  
until the blonde boy is out of sight, and then breathes out a sigh of relief. They are   
broken by the seemingly lifeless green eyes that calmly watch again as the blonde boy greets  
all he can in the park, then his mouth unconsciously start to form words.  
  
"Oh, Quatre..."  
  
[And he doesn't see me.]  
  
But not to risk another close encounter with the boy with the aquamarine eyes, the   
brown haired boy walks away, risking another glance as he shrinks into the shadows of the   
trees, then with a rustle of leaves and foliage, he is gone. Quatre looks behind him,   
sensing someone watching him, someone familiar, but he shrugs it off as a ruse, because no   
one is there.  
  
[When he dances, he moves me to a smile  
And I seem everything near him shine.]  
  
The same brown headed boy stays in the corner of the ballroom, a shorter girl with   
laughing blue eyes and brown curls that frame her face clinging to his elbow. They watch   
from the balcony above the dance floor where forms whirl and spin, their multicolored   
dresses and tuxedos showing no sign of stopping their dizzying ways. The girl admires the   
throng of people on the ground below them, and calls up to him softly, her voice taken away   
by the music that drowned out everything else. But the boy knows that she is speaking, and   
knowingly reads her lips. They tell him that she is proud of her brother, but she is   
concerned about the factor of his everlasting sadness.   
  
Discovered, he looks at her sharply, then just stares at the blonde boy, now on the   
far corner of the room. His sister follows his gaze, and acknowledges this discovery. But   
she do not speak, just observes as her brother stares at his best friend in the corner.  
  
[There's a grace in his ways that I can't contain  
I haven't that grace  
Oh I haven't that grace.]  
  
Quatre waltzes with Dorothy for a little while, when he feels that watching presence  
falling over him again. The same presence he felt in the park, on the street, in the office   
building...someone was watching him, but whoever it was, he could tell that this person   
meant no harm, only good. He/She wanted only to make sure that he was safe, and he was glad  
that someone was watching his back when he couldn't do it, and that someone cared. But he   
couldn't help but wonder, who was it? There was no one there but his closest friends, yet   
he felt this presence was foreign, an aura that he wasn't acquainted with. Frowing, he   
looked around, but there was no one there. Everyone was talking with each other, even Trowa  
up on the balcony seemed preoccupiedly chatting with his recently found sister. He was glad  
for them, all right, but still, Trowa was an enigma, an unknown. Could there be more to him  
that met the eye?  
  
[And the closer he gets I can't help but hide  
So ashamed of my body and voice.]  
  
Trowa leaves the party early, while Catherine was talking with Dorothy. He doesn't   
regret that he left early. He was sure that Quatre suspected something, now. The blonde   
Arab had almost caught him staring at him, and the Latino could only turn to Catherine and   
ask her to pretend to talk. Catherine began to chat with him about the lions, and what   
their names were again. She never could seem to remember the names, but she could always   
identify them by her own set of names. He sighed, and looked up at the sky again.  
  
I wonder how long it's been since I met Quatre...it seems like it's been forever,   
we met so long ago. I just hope he remembers our first meeting as well as I do, the fight   
and the compromise, it is always here, in my mind. I always consider him first, and I know   
he would do the same for me. But I don't have the guile or the elegance he has. I am   
content to watch him from afar.  
  
[There are boundaries we pass in spite of the war  
But our own, we can't seem to cross.]  
  
The brown haired boy sighs again, a heavyhearted, deeply-in-love sigh, but he knows   
that it's better this way, not to interfere, to pretend not to care. He could not reach   
past the deep friendship that he had bonded with Quatre, he couldn't lose it, or else it   
would take him a long time to get back to where he was now. He had finally found a purpose   
in life to live, with more pillars holding up his sky than he ever though he would need, but  
Quatre was the tallest, and the strongest of them all. Just knowing that the blonde was   
safe was enough for him.  
  
[She has a way that surrounds her so delicate  
With a glory that reigns in her life.  
She is also so much that she is not]  
  
From a distance, the brown haired boy watches again as his best friend walks down   
the park street again, this time with a girl on his arm. The same girl from the party, the   
same girl that Quatre unwittingly saved and won the heart of on Libra, when it hadn't blown   
up. In sparing her life, she gave him hers to keep, and it seemed that Quatre was taking   
her offer: to stay with her forever, and love her. She has an aura that is so delicate   
after being totally stripped of her title and rank, but now she has found another type of   
honor and justice to live for. She was everything she thought she wasn't: funny, incentive,  
thoughtful....perfect for Quatre in every aspect. Not like me, he thought a bit bitterly,  
but assured himself that it was for the best.  
  
[These things, I can't see  
Because he doesn't see me  
And he doesn't see me.]  
  
Quatre had always been the peaceful, kind one of the group of 5 that overcame great   
odds together, working independently, until their strategies demanded they have allies to   
work with, and to associate with. They had a life, too. Just a different one, one filled   
with everything a life wasn't supposed to have but they had excess of, enough to fill their   
next few lifetimes with. Behind his back, Quatre had nicknames: the Innocent One, the   
Peaceful One, the Eloquent One...there were too many words and meanings to describe him, and  
the brown haired boy wasn't about to try. But he was about to try to talk to the fair   
haired lad that he admired so much after all these years and hardships they had defeated,   
together. That word was still foreign on his tongue, still insecure in his mind. It didn't  
sound familiar, but somehow the brown haired boy knew that it was right. He walked through   
the bushes, and was greeted by the happy, vibrant smile Quatre always wore for him. The   
only regret he had was that it wasn't the same smile he gave Dorothy.  
  
"Trowa! How have you been? Is the circus here already? It hasn't even been a year  
yet! Your manager sure is kind to let you come off here at this time of day!"  
  
Trowa smiled, just a minuscule gesture of the upturning of the corners of his lips.   
But Quatre's smile grew brighter at this, until he finally closed his eyes and began to skip  
happily along the path, Trowa half-jogging, half-walking to keep up with him. When Quatre   
finally tired, they both plopped down on a bench, exhausted but joyful.  
  
[There are things we can change,  
If we choose to fight.]  
  
I could tell Quatre, Trowa thought as he looked over at his comrade. I could   
change everything I lived for, and live for just him alone. He wouldn't push me away,   
perhaps to make it up, he would let me stay with him for a little while until I came to my   
senses and accepted the fact that he wasn't in love with me. Does he know how much torture   
he has put me through? No. And I'm not about to let him find out either, because he is as   
strong as steel in battle, his thinkingl quicker than the speed of light, and power in his   
hands, but in matters that involve emotional things, he is easily harmed, but he easily   
recouperates, as well. I wish with all my might I could tell him, but it would shatter him   
forever. I can't harm him, now that he has found his happiness in another person.  
  
Quatre, as long as you are happy, I am as well. And that is all that matters now.  
  
[But the walls of injustice are high.]  
  
Quatre felt Trowa's attention was on him, but what he couldn't distinguish. As far   
as he could tell, Trowa was extremely happy. Perhaps something had happened in his life   
that made him this happy. "Trowa", he started. "Why are you smiling?" Trowa looked at him  
for a moment, then gave a smile back in return. He just stared, but didn't speak, and   
somehow Quatre knew that it was him that was making Trowa so happy, so alighted to have him   
beside him. He looked up at the Latino, still questioning, but Trowa gave no spoken answer,  
but turned away, a faint smile still on his face.  
  
You. That's what's making me smile, Trowa thought with a smile that was apparent   
on his face. It was rare for him to smile at all, so he was glad that he was able to do so   
in a place where they were all strangers, and wouldn't mind him. Except for Quatre, he   
thought. He would never be a stranger. Always a welcome person in this mundane life of   
mine. He is someone else's, though, and I can't say anything about that. I can't control   
his life, and if he's happy, so am I.  
  
If he's happy, than I am too.  
  
[When he passes me by he's a ray of light.  
Like the first drop of sun from the sky.]  
  
"Konnichiwa, Trowa!"  
  
He nodded in accordance to the blonde in question. Quatre smiled happily and   
continued his rounds in the park, as he strode everyday. Trowa couldn't help but have a   
newly enlightened heart at this joyful boy that skipped down the path in unhidden happiness.  
He reminded Trowa of a little sunbeam, beaming for everyone that he came across. His faint   
smile turned down, though, when the next thought crossed his mind: He sure didn't deserve   
this little sunbeam's light, he was the bringer of darkness, of death and destruction, and   
he was yearning for light? Preposterous, he thought with a frown. Without a word of   
goodbye, he turned his heel in a pivot and walked away. Quatre stopped, feeling something   
was wrong with Trowa, and he watched sadly as the brown haired boy walked away, head hunched   
between his shoulders. But he had no time to brood, for Dorothy had appeared around the   
corner, right on schedule.  
  
[And I know he's a king who deserves a queen.  
Someone other than me.  
So different from me.]  
  
Trowa glanced behind him, and was satisfied to see Quatre was now preoccupied with   
Dorothy. Good, he thought with a wry smile, he's with someone else, someone the total   
opposite of me, a queen, a member of royalty like him. Why would anyone like me anyways? I  
have been on the battlefield since as far back as I can remember. I have no right to be   
with such a person of high rank, the owner of the Winner Family. He is a king, I am but a   
peasant. He should be left to his own premises, his own life is full enough as it is. He   
doesn't need me meddling with his affairs. The Latino walked off, but Quatre was watching   
him, sensing something was wrong with him. He shrugged for the moment, but vowed that he   
would visit Catherine soon to find out if something was wrong.  
  
[He doesn't see me.]  
  
Needless to say, when he arrived at the site of the circus, they had already left   
for L10. He had missed his chance.  
  
[He doesn't see me.]  
  
Trowa watched as L3 disappeared from sight, and wondered if Quatre knew. He   
probably did, because of his Uchuu no Kokoro, but somehow he knew that he had to leave this   
behind, as far from him as L3 was now, miles away in unpenatrable space. He wouldn't go   
back. And though it broke his heart (if he had one, he added silently) to think that he   
would never feel the light of the sunbeam again, it was better if the dark stayed away from   
the light. Disaster came after they conversed together.   
  
[He doesn't see me.]  
  
The shuttle flew away, leaving both Quatre and Trowa in their own thoughts, in their  
own sorrow and happiness, in their own lives, their own paths which never crossed again in   
this lifetime.  
  
/ \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \   
  
Author's note:  
  
Well, here's a brand new fic, and this is the first 3x4 fic I've ever written. Flame me  
all you want, but you must realize that the Dorothy thing was just like she had an   
infatuation with Quatre, and he just submitted. If you flame me about that, go ahead, it   
was just an alternate pairing to make Quatre seem distracted, and give Trowa a chance to   
escape. Sorry, all you 3x4 fans out there, but I don't think Quatre and Dorothy go together  
either, it's just that I had to make Quatre distracted with something, so I put Dorothy in.  
  
Andrea Weiling  



	2. Reunion

Ch.2: Reunion  
  
He looked up from his work as the teacher walked in, back from a break. He tiredly   
turned a head back to his laptop and started to click away again at the keys. He had always  
had a compatibility with computers for some reason or another, but he knew that it was just   
luck that he had it. After a moment of careful typing or so, he realized that the room had   
gone dead quiet, and everyone was looking at him, the only in the room still typing at his   
computer. He blushed as the person sitting in the row behind him hissed softly in his left   
ear, "Try being quiet like you usually are, blonde! Everyone's looking at you!" The   
'blonde' didn't need the other boy to say that; it was quite apparent that exactly 96 pairs   
of eyes, including the teacher's were boring into him, literally making holes in him. He   
squirmed a little uncomfortably under their gaze, but the teacher saved him from any other   
onslaught of embarrassment by calling the class's attention to the front.  
  
The blonde squinted towards the front of the classroom and almost jumped in   
surprise. Make that 97 pairs of eyes, he mentally told himself.  
  
The new kid was a brunette with very strange hair in a style he hadn't seen before.   
There were 2 long sections of brown bangs on each side of his face, hanging down and framing  
it, reaching past his chin, but not past his shoulder. In the back, he could only guess   
that it was just like any other boy's cut, just a simple shave in the back, leaving what he   
liked to call a queue in the back. This boy was dressed just like he was, in the blue   
jacket and black shoes, with a white scarf around his neck. He probably wouldn't have   
gotten in to the school if he hadn't been wearing that; the Peacecraft Institute of Learning  
would NEVER have let a student go un-uniformed, even for one day.  
  
But as he looked again, he found, to his utter surprise, that the boy's eyes were   
green.  
  
Green as the forest, the moss that grew on the creek that ran through his family's   
country summer estate, greener than the grass that grew wavingly in the field beyond the   
school, where the boys went to do their dares. It wasn't just GREEN, it resounded with a   
vibrancy that just rendered him breathless. It was hard to tear his gaze away from those   
green orbs that so clearly shone back into his.   
  
He's looking at me!  
  
"Good afternoon, class. May I introduce a new student that has just come to us from  
Slovakia? Class, this is-"  
  
"Ma'am, if I may do so, I would like to introduce myself. It wouldn't be right if   
such a fair teacher such as yourself should burden yourself with a trivial task like this."   
He turned to the class, just as Ms. Signon turned and blushed. "My name is Trent. Trent   
Barton. It's been a pleasure to meet you, as my new class, I want to be a part of you as   
soon as possible. I hope I have not been intruding on any personal matters that are of your  
best interest."  
  
By this time, the teacher had turned and pointed to a seat. The blonde could have   
squealed with delight; it was the empty seat beside him. The seat had been empty ever since  
the beginning of the year, and he had expected it to be filled by the middle of the year.   
But no new students had enrolled, so it had remained empty. Now it wasn't anymore, and he   
would have someone to talk to! The teacher pushed the new student a little roughly up   
towards the stairs, and the student started to walk. "Mr. Barton, please take a seat beside  
Mr. Fineha Verektura." The blonde, or rather, Fineha, smiled and patted the sea. Trent   
made no answer except to sit down. Everyone turned back towards the front for another   
boring lecture. Fineha snuck another glance at his new partner/roommate, and then got an   
idea.  
  
Trent watched the board as the teacher wrote down something important. He turned   
back to his laptop and looked with interest at the blinking light that told him that someone  
was requesting an Instant Messenger conversation. He looked around, and realized that no   
one was looking at him. He stopped for a moment in confusion, then clicked on the button.  
  
The message read:  
  
Hi. Where were you from again?  
  
Trent frowned, but typed back "Slovakia" and pressed enter. In no time, a new message   
popped up. Gradually, after Trent had a conversation going, he realized that the boy   
sitting beside him was the one who was replying. Quickly he typed "You are Fineha, right?"  
  
There was no answer, for the bell had rung. But before Fineha left the row, he made  
sure that Trent saw the wink he gave him.  
  
* * *  
  
"Shut up!", Fineha spluttered madly at his friend. Dasive just took one look at his  
enraged face and cracked up again. The blonde looked at his friend, then reached over and   
gave a disgruntled pull on the long chestnut ponytail that hung down from Dasive's head.   
The American just jerked his head back, and swatted Fineha's hand away playfully. "Aw", he   
said. "You're too provoked. But I must say, if that Trent character has caught your eye,   
you've good taste, I say." At this, Dasive's 2 companions chuckled. Fineha shot them both   
a withering glare that sent them to shut up, but still, he wasn't satisfied.   
  
"I don't like him!"  
  
"Don't like who?", a voice said from behind. Dasive, Genyi and Kaoru all grinned.   
  
Fineha whipped around, at that voice. Above him was Trent, looking down at him with  
a measure of puzzlement and amusement written all over his features. He gestured to a spot   
in the shade beside Fineha and said quietly to the 3 grinning bobcats, "Can I sit here?" He  
was answered by 3 enthusiastic nods.  
  
Fineha turned red with embarrassment.  
  
Trent ate a bite of his sandwich, then turned back to Fineha and asked, "Well, who   
is it?"  
  
The poor blonde could only shake his head dreadingly and murmur, "I have to go!",   
dashing off in the general direction of the dorm. The four boys left watched with an air of  
laughter as Fineha bumped into several people, overturned a table, spilled drink on several   
more people, and forgot to apologize to any of them, contrary to his regular attitude of   
etiquette.   
  
Trent looked as well, and shrugged off the feeling of helplessness that he had   
encountered in Fineha's eyes.   
  
* * *  
  
There came a knock on the door several minutes later. Fineha knew it was probably   
Dasive & Co. coming to apologize, but he didn't feel like getting up right them from the bed  
right then. After a few moments, he heard the door open. He lifted his head up a   
centimeter, and quickly put it down again. The brunette placed a hand on his back, and he   
flinched, pulling away. Trent grasped the shoulder firmly and flipped Fineha over in one   
deft movement. Fineha wisely closed his eyes from meeting Trent's;  
  
"Open your eyes."  
  
"No."  
  
"Why are you acting so stupid?"  
  
There was no answer to that, as Trent found. So he tried another tactic.  
  
"Is it because of this?" He sat on the side of the bed, still holding onto Fineha,   
he stooped down until his face was only centimeters away. Fineha opened one aquamarine eye   
and closed it again. Trent bent down and gently brushed his lips against Fineha's. Then he  
hovered above the face a moment more, then began to walk out the door.  
  
He had not even begin to walk until he felt Fineha grab his wrist. He didn't move   
for a moment, then turned finally and stared straight into Fineha's eyes. He watched, for a  
second, as the visions whirled around him, and he was assailed with every memory that had   
gone through his mind. Some were familiar, others were not. He saw Fineha, slightly older,  
in the door of a large humanoid-like machine, goggles perched on top of his head. He was   
reaching out a hand. And just when he was finished with this memory, more came, clashing   
with the ones he had until he didn't know which ones were real and which ones weren't.   
  
And a name floated to the surface of his mind.  
  
"Quatre..."  
  
"Trowa...so it was you, all along. You were the one who watched me."  
  
"Aa."  
  
"Trowa?"  
  
"Hmm?"  
  
"Do you love me?"  
  
"Aa."  
  
"Is that a yes?"  
  
"Aa."  
  
"That didn't answer my question, you know."  
  
Trent looked down into those hopeful aquamarine eyes, and slowly sank down on the   
side of his bed. He ruffled the blonde hair fondly, then stroked Fineha's cheek. "Aa.   
Hai, yes."  
  
"That's good, cuz you know what?"  
  
"Hmm?"  
  
"I love you too."  
  
Nothing more was said as Fineha wrapped his arms around Trent and promptly fell   
asleep.   
  
/ \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \   
  
Author's note:  
  
This was hastily put together, as you can probably tell. I wasn't in the mood for   
writing GW fiction at the moment, so I just whipped together something. I might try and   
revise it later, but for now, I just want to rest. Even I must say, there is absolutely NO   
describing in this one...I'll definitely change it later. It's so BAD, if I must say so   
myself. But everyone wanted me to write another continuation, and since I already used the   
words "in that lifetime" in the last one, I could only put it as another life. Karma, that   
kinda thing. Anyways, I don't like it, I will change it, but the plot will be the same. If  
you send me flamers, I don't care right now, I just want to say: SHUT UP. I have an awful   
loss of sleep, still have that darn history project to do, so I'm just going to ignore the   
world for a little while and drop off to dreamworld. I need to sleep...  
  
Andrea Weiling  
  
  



End file.
